


Foreign

by wannamakeyoufeel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-08-28 18:03:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8456413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wannamakeyoufeel/pseuds/wannamakeyoufeel
Summary: September 1st. Scotland's grasslands and marshes were feeling the first chills of autumn. Low in the sky, the setting sun's gold light shone through the icy air. Nearby, the Hogwarts Express churned its way through the hills. Within, incoming sixth years sat in anticipation of the new year. Many students made silly predictions for what may come to cope with their first day jitters. Certain connections, however, were so unlikely that they could not be forecast even in the wildest of guesses. We all find ourselves living lives we never expected. In Hermione's eyes, the whole world was foreign. Feeling nothing for days and feelings days all at once, she could not tell the difference between the back of her mind and the front. She was glad to be moving steadily toward Hogwarts, where unlikelihood would very soon find her.





	1. The Great Hall

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Dramione fic and it will be graphic but it's not going to be a quick shot. This will be a longer story so settle in 
> 
> This is how I always imagined Dramione. I do hope you all enjoy
> 
> Last updated Tuesday, December 20 2016

**The morning was crisp.** The school grounds glowed at first light, vast and undisturbed after a long absence of students over holiday.

Below the castle, the Black Lake mirrored the sunrise directly into Gryffindor tower. Within, great velvet drapes hung heavily against large windows to shield slumbering students from the dawn. All of Hogwarts was at rest; all but one, conscious mind.

Alone in her quiet and early awareness, Hermione Granger sat in the narrow space that existed between her window and its burgundy curtains. The rest of the girl's dormitory was in shadow, so she utilized the sunlit space behind her curtains to read, even if it was approximately the size of a bench. She had long forgotten about her book, however, and was gazing out at the morning light. Focused though she looked, the serene image only half registered in her winding train of thought.

She had been glad to wake to the simple reality that was attending Hogwarts. This summer break had filled her to the brim with a deep and existential insecurity for the lives of those dearest to her. Hermione struggled to wrap her head around the magnitude of her turmoil until she grew weary or numb. Surely she would learn to cope and this heavy unease would leave her with time. She sighed and allowed her book to take her away once more until it was time for breakfast in the Great Hall.

 

* * * * * *

 

**"Hermione! Over here!"**  Hermione searched for the source of her calling in the bustling Great Hall. 

She spotted her two closest companions, closer to her more so than her own family. Seated at Gryffindor table was Harry, the grinning bed head, and next to him was Ron, shaggy and smiling through a mouthful of pancake. To her subtle surprise she quickly had to fight back tears. She'd forgotten how much the three of them being united at Hogwarts felt like home over the long summer and everlasting morning.

As she made her way toward her friends, she observed how much they had all grown since their first year together. Harry, with his black hair and bespectacled green eyes, had become a lanky fellow; slender but rather ungraceful with his infallible rat's nest of a haircut. Ron, freckled and ginger as ever, had grown quite a bit, and now had a healthy build that was either the result of his quidditch training or his insatiable appetite.

"Hi, guys! Hi, Ginny! Hi, Neville!" Hermione sat and greeted everyone, anxious to catch up with the lot of them. They all exchanged updates meriting happy belated birthdays, congratulations, oh my's, oh no's, my condolences on your ancient pet, etcetera. Her joyful greetings seemed to capture Ron, who beamed at her every time she laughed, though she did not notice.  There was no talk of the ongoing dangers that surrounded the return of he who must not be named. The lot of them had occasionally congregated with the Order of the Phoenix over the summer and dealt with things too dark to bring up right away, on the first day of school, during breakfast. No, all was pleasant right now.

Despite being surrounded by her best mates, she could not shake the pit from her stomach. She had a vague feeling that she was not as entirely present as her friends were, and in this she felt lonely. Hermione pushed the thought down and resumed eating her morning meal.

 

* * * * * *

 

**Shortly after breakfast, the masses fled to their first periods.** Harry and Ron had grown a head or two taller than Hermione over the years, and so she followed their lead while they shortcut-ed their way through the castle halls and moving staircases to Professor Slughorn's classroom. Hermione had looked forward to Advanced Potions for a long time. It was equal parts hands-on and practical as it was academically challenging. 

The halls were chaotic. Students shuffled their way around the trio as Hermione trotted to keep up with the boys through the crowd.

"Slughorn's room should be in the East corridor, past the main stairwell," she reminded them, not wanting to end up lost or tardy. Neither seemed to hear her comment. She tugged on Ron's robes and said, "I don't want to be late, Ronald-" she nearly tripped when the boy turned  and she was not met with red hair, but with white.

She had somehow ended up trailing Draco Malfoy. He stared at her with unseeing eyes for a moment before he seemed to remember his ingrained hatred for her in a scowl and ripped his sleeve from her grasp. Hermione huffed at the sight of him, mortified to have found her arch bully. They blinked at each other. 

"Granger," he finally grumbled in a sort of salutation as he turned away from the apparent mistake. She did not say anything in return; she had nothing prepared for such a civil interaction. Civil would be a slight overstatement aside from how he usually spat her name with such malice.

_Granger. Filthy mudblood._

She recovered from the awkward exchange and rushed into Slughorn's room, right after Draco. Harry and Ron were already at their cauldrons, where Hermione joined them. Her heart was still swallowing adrenaline from the unexpected contact. She usually had no problem letting things like this go, what with years of experience with Draco's disdain for the golden trio. Before she could dwell on it any longer, the bell  sounded and she soon forgot the incident as she began preparing her notes. 

 

* * * * * *

 

**After a long day of steady work, Hermione finally finished studying in the library and made for the Great Hall.** She hadn't had a break all afternoon since she ate lunch in the library to continue revising her notes. She found she had some social energy to spend before retiring to her dormitory, and met Harry and several Weasley's in their typical seats at Gryffindor table.

"Hey 'Mione," Ron greeted her as he helped himself to the bottomless curry and mash. 'Mione was the nickname he'd developed for her over the years. She didn't much care for it.

"Hey, Ron. Harry, Ginny. How were classes?" she asked, curious of their school days apart from one another. They began comparing homework loads and evaluating professors before Ron blurted out,

"Oy, you almost missed the bell in Potions today 'Mione! Lost us, did you?" The question was casual with the slightest edge of nosiness. 

"Oh, yeah, funny story," Hermione explained what had happened, minus Draco's attitude (or lack thereof). When she finished, Harry and Ron glanced over their shoulders toward Slytherin table where they found a particularly sullen-looking Malfoy.

"He looks sour to be back in school. Hates this place, the foul git," Ron decided. "Did he say anything to you 'Mione?" Hermione thought Ron's questions seemed excessive. 

"No, actually," she said, before changing the subject to Professor Slughorn's eclectic syllabus. They continued to converse from one topic to another, and then another. Meanwhile, Hermione noticed a view between Harry and Ron's shoulders of Draco Malfoy seated at the other end of the hall behind them. The silver haired Slytherin wasn't boasting to his friends or picking on first years. Instead he sat, mouth shut and eyes far away, mindlessly playing with the green apple in front of him. She watched for a moment, trying to read his expression when he glanced upward and almost met her gaze-

"-'Mione? You in there?" Ron's face moved in front of her view and snapped her back to their supper rambling. 

"Er, yeah, I'm just, tired," she humored. It was the truth.

"I'm pretty beat, too. Why don't we make our way back to the commonroom?" Ron suggested.

"Sure," she agreed absently, gathering her books and leaving Harry to finish supper with the remaining lot. She and Ron debated quidditch tactics as they walked, and still she felt as though she was only pretending to be part of the conversation. She wondered if he could tell, or if others experienced this feeling of watching through a hole in the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> image for this chapter:
> 
> http://scooout.tumblr.com/post/74990027837


	2. The Library

(Draco)

 **The night was heavy.** The Forbidden Forest seemed to suck up what little light the stars provided like a black hole behind the castle. Not even the moon shone.

High above the ground, one solitary window glowed feebly with firelight. The window belonged to Slytherin tower, and gave way to the Slytherin commonroom. Inside, a burning fireplace cast shadows dancing silently up and down the walls. The room was nearly empty, for most students had already succumbed to exhaustion and now dreamt peacefully in their dormitories. Sleep had found all but one possessed student, who now sat distracted before the fire.

Draco Malfoy gazed idly into the diminishing flames over his completed homework. He finished his assignments long ago, but had decided to study into the night to keep his mind busy after sleep had failed him. How could he sleep in a time like this? The Malfoy's were practically slaves to the dark lord, thanks to his deranged aunt Bellatrix. She had involved them all, and now they must demonstrate loyalty to _Voldemort_. 

The fire popped and Draco ripped his gaze from the lazy flames. He tried returning his attention to the Advanced Potion Making text in front of him, but his eyes simply could not focus any longer. It was time he allowed himself some much needed sleep, anyway. He sighed and looked over his shoulder to find himself the only person left in the room. Then, with no incantations or a wand, he hushed the fire and all remaining candles out- he had become quite good at wordless magic. 

The darkness was no obstacle, seeing as he knew the dormitories better than his own quarters at Malfoy Manor. He entered his dormitory, found his bed and slid behind the green tapestry that adorned his head rest. Crabbe and Goyle were snoring harshly from across the room, probably drooling, too. Draco felt his eyelids growing heavy, and allowed his mind to review the day. 

_Pansy complaining about her marks in History of Magic, Potter and Weasley scorning me over their shoulders for no begotten reason, Granger..._

Seamlessly, his thoughts followed him into sleep and became his dreams. 

 

* * * * * *

 

 (Hermione)

 **The first week back at Hogwarts proved therapeutic for Hermione.** Her workload was going to be bigger this year than it ever had been before. This was good news for her wearied mind. Studying was something she excelled at, and she had hope again that her days of dysphoria were numbered after all.

It was Saturday, however, and she had just finished her latest book she relied on for whenever she found herself unoccupied. Harry, Ron and Ginny were busy at Quidditch lessons, and would be for the better part of the afternoon. Hermione supposed she could fish out a new book from the school's impressive library. She pulled on a large, borrowed sweater- had it been Harry's or Ron's? Oh well, it was practically hers at this point- and made for the books. 

Hermione stepped out of the Gryffindor commonroom with her old book in hand. It was a historical account of the varieties of magical and non-magical blood throughout the ages called _Traits: Wizards, Muggles, Muggleborns & Squibs. _The subject had piqued her interest since she was a little girl, and years of derision from pureblooded families had driven her to study it for assurance. Over the years she had come to learn that her blood was just as magical as any witch's or wizard's. Still, she felt defensive when she thought of her muggle parents.

There was a fine line between the solace she found in her alone time and the anguish of being stranded with her thoughts. If she didn't catch herself, she could fall into a dark place. Well-practiced in her cycle of moods, Hermione could usually stay focused and remain her optimistic self. Thinking and overthinking were the same bloody thing, weren't they? Merlin, she was doing it again. She needed a break. (book.)

The library was Hermione's home away from home. The dusty ballroom had been filled to the brim with towering shelves of books. Shuttered windows allowed golden rays to light up the air before her. The only noises were the whisking of floating books sent back to their shelves and the occasional murmur of a small study group seated in the front of the library.

Entering, she first found the history section, where she released her book to ascend back to its home. Now, to find unread literature. Hermione was quite the bookworm. Consequentially, there were few accounts or novels left unread to her eyes. She sometimes read books twice over, sometimes more. A reread would not do this time; she needed to be captivated.

She sighed and began to walk deeper into the library. She scanned the genres as she passed rows of beckoning pages.

_Fiction: Epics, Tales, Legends, Myths... History, Magic..._

Hermione walked on, entering the magical section, which occupied the entire back half of the library.

_Charms, Crafts, Creatures, Spells... Willed Magic._

Willed Magic? Hermione had never endeavored to learn willed magic before. She felt that annunciating spells was the proper way to produce them, and therefore the most effective method. Not to mention it was extremely difficult to learn. New knowledge intrigued her nonetheless, and so she turned into the aisle.

It was somehow quieter back here, shadowed from commotion. Thumbing through the gargantuan tomes, she pondered a good starting point. A large, dusk-colored book caught her eye. Silver embroidery on its spine read: _An Approach to Speechless Magic._ In her concentration, Hermione jumped when the giant book pushed itself forward and off of its shelf, and began to glide away to the end of the row toward its summoner. 

"Sorry," drawled an irritable voice. "I didn't realize anybody else was back here." Draco Malfoy had been studying in a dimly lit corner. He stood from his desk and emerged from the shadow with _An Approach to Speechless Magic_ in hand. His pale blonde hair and paler skin appeared drained against the circles beneath his eyes and his black garb. He looked sharp- tired, but sharp.

He stopped in his tracks when he finally registered who he had just apologized to. "Granger," he said in realization. Hermione was still recovering from the jump scare with wide eyes and her hand over her chest.

"I didn't see you," She said.

"Obviously," he said, a look of caution on his face. They both stood for a moment, trying to decipher the manner of their encounter. 

_Why must he be here. I don't want to talk to anyone, see anyone. I just need something to read. Malfoy, of all people, too._

"What are you doing back here?" Hermione asked, remembering they were in _Willed Magic_. She prepared herself for an answer that might be along the lines of  _why don't you mind your own business and go find your Gryffindor friends_. 

"Studying," he answered shortly. "What are you doing back here?" he asked.

"Looking for a book to read," she answered, guarded.

They stood again in thick silence, wondering what to say next, wondering if one still hated the other.

"You're looking for something to read... about this?" Draco asked skeptically, holding  _An Approach to Speechless Magic_ in both hands. 

"As a matter of fact, I was," Hermione declared. "I've... exhausted most of the rest of the practical library," she admitted. At this, his bitter expression fell and he could not withhold a small smirk.  

_Of course she has. Well, say something? She must hate me. Tell her you're not a bigot. Apologize for what you've called her. Apologize for everything._

"Of course you have," Draco began. He hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. He had a strange look on his face now, as though he had something sad to tell her. Uncomfortable in such unfamiliar circumstances, Hermione spoke before he could continue.

"I'll come back later," she stammered, turning to leave.  

She was walking quickly when Draco blurted out, "Granger-" at the exact moment Professor Snape rounded the corner, narrowly avoiding collision with Hermione. Snape stood in her path at the row's entrance like a tall, black door.

"Granger..." Snape greeted her suspiciously, repeating Draco. His dark eyes darted between the two, dissecting the situation. They were both frozen now, incapable of thinking of the right words for such a mix up.

"She was just leaving," Draco suddenly spat, in his most vicious slur. Hermione usually paid no mind when he spoke like that, but in that moment the change of tone cut through her like glass.   

She snapped back to reality and excused herself around Professor Snape, mumbling "Professor," as she passed. Snape said nothing, but merely continued to stare at Draco. She walked briskly out of the library without looking back.

She walked and walked, faster than leisurely to try and catch up to her whirling thoughts. Why had his malice taken her by such surprise? She was more than used to disdain from Malfoy, but she could still hear the last thing he'd said. _She was just leaving_. It was spoken with the same hostility he always had. _Granger. Filthy mudblood._ He had scorned her with the foul word more times than she could count. So why had it pierced her so sharply just now? 

Walking aimlessly through the castle, Hermione stuck to less traveled corridors. She wanted to be alone now more than ever. 

She had never had that sort of conversation with Malfoy before. She could not recall another instance where they had gotten so far with words without insult or a punch to the face. Bickering, perhaps, but that was really all she knew between her and Draco. 

By the time she reached the Gryffindor commonroom, she was out of breath. 

_Thank Merlin I have the commonroom alone._

She collapsed into the grandfather chair before the fireplace, her heart still swallowing the adrenaline from their little interaction. She felt flustered over her trip to the library turning into one, big, uncomfortable repartee. Sighing, she mentally digested what had just happened little by little.

She and Malfoy had just had their very first conversation. She could not recall another instance where they had gotten that far with words before. Bickering, maybe, but not without insult or a punch to the face. There was something different just now, something about his temperament, or his voice..

Hermione almost believed it before she remembered the last thing he'd said.  _She was just leaving._ He had spoken with the same hostility he always had.

_Granger. Filthy mudblood._

She hated remembering. How many times had he scorned her with that foul word? More than she could count. She must be imagining all of these differences. 

Hermione suddenly felt her energy run out. Sometimes the days were too long for her. Only then did she realize she had left the library empty handed. Defeated, she decided to make her way to the Great Hall where she could read the Daily Prophet while she waited for Harry and Ron to join her for supper. 

 

* * * * * *

 

 **Students began pouring into the Great Hall as the afternoon gave way to evening.** Hermione did not look up from the Daily Prophet until the boys and the majority of the Gryffindor quidditch team found her in their typical spot. Ron plopped down beside Hermione, rugged from practice. 

"How goes it, 'Mione?" Ron nudged her, grinning. His question seemed rhetorical as he continued before she could reply. "Reading the Daily Prophet, I see? Any breaking news?" 

"Hermione," she corrected. "And no, no more than Skeeter's conspiracy theories about the Order. But enough of that, how was Quidditch practice? Are you ready to play Ravenclaw next Friday?" she asked the group.

"Practice was... enlightening," Ginny mused. They laughed as Ginny and Harry elaborated. It felt good to be around so many people. Why couldn't she feel this way all of the time? Sometimes being surrounded by people was the last place Hermione wanted to be. Right now, however, she felt warm and at home. Quiet though she was, every smile seemed to enchant Ron, whose eager gazes went unnoticed. 

"I've heard the word Quidditch enough times for one lifetime," Ron spoke over everyone else. "'Mione, how was your day?"

" _Her_ -mione," she emphasized. "My day was... good. I finished my book, and... studied for Slughorn's laboratory practical," she was not the aptest liar. 

"That's it?" Ron inquired. Hermione was painfully aware that Ron had just made it her turn to be under the spotlight. He was either being very nosy or very pushy in an attempt to get Hermione to speak up. Either way, she was not enjoying the attention.

"Yes," she affirmed. He looked at her a moment longer before shrugging. Was there a wrong answer to his question? 

"Alright then 'Mione, we'd better get you outside in some sunshine before the season-"

"Please, Ron, it's HER-mione, not 'Mione," she insisted. 

"Alright then, it'll be  _Hermione,_ " he said, defensively. "And you can calm down, there's no need to inerrupt." he added brashly. A stiff silence fell among the group. Harry sipped his tea. 

"Thank you, Ronald," Hermione said after a moment, and stood to leave. Before she could walk away, Ron caught her by her pinky and said,

"Blimey, I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm rubbish with bad habits," he apologized. "Please, finish your supper with us." His endearing sensitivity erased her frustration, and she unwillingly cracked a small smile. "There she is," Ron grinned enthusiastically and patted the seat beside him. Hermione rolled her eyes and sat back down in good spirit.

"So," Harry chimed in, "does this mean we call you Ronald now, then?" With Hermione's laugh, the group quickly returned to their likeness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> image for this chapter:
> 
> http://scooout.tumblr.com/post/147632055137


	3. The Courtyard

**Hermione kept what happened on Saturday to herself.** The more she analyzed it, the more she feared she was interpreting something out of nothing. Even if she was right in detecting something different about Malfoy, she could not bring herself to talk about it with Harry or Ron. That was a first. 

Usually, she shared everything with the boys. They were her best mates, and she theirs. Lately, however, a new dynamic among the trio had taken hold that made Hermione hesitate to open up, especially toward Ron. Something about the way he had changed over the summer did not mix well with his sheepish personality. He had, in a sense, come out of his shell, only to reveal a very domineering competitor.  

It was becoming upsetting to ponder. Nobody seemed to be who Hermione thought they were anymore. Hermione herself began to question what she had to offer without her books or her precious marks.

_I used to feel so sure about things... Sure of what? I don't know... just about the world. Now I feel so utterly uncertain... and tired._

 

* * * * * *

 

 **The following week was as ordinary as any week at Hogwarts- entirely bizarre.**  Peeves released an outbreak of lice among the students that took Madam Pomfrey and several professors nearly all of three days to extinguish. Harry began to exceed Professor Slughorn's wildest expectations (and Hermione's reputation) in Potions with the help of a trusty noted text book. On top of all that, the fall season came to an end nearly overnight as Hogwarts awoke Friday morning to two feet of snow. 

The first to observe the weather's drastic change was none other than Hermione Granger. She found herself again sitting, gazing out at the school grounds through one of the girl's dormitory windows. Only now, the sky was clouded and every blade of grass was hidden under a blanket of white. It was a pure sight to see. She also had no book- she still had not gone back to the library to select a new one- she merely chose to sit in view of the dawn after she had routinely woken up too early, rather than lay awake in her cot. 

She wondered if it was snowing where mum and dad were. She wondered if it was snowing where Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were. She wondered if anyone else in the castle was awake and sitting alone, thinking these very thoughts. Very suddenly, she felt her eyes begin to well. Trying not to cry, she placed a hand over her mouth and shut her eyes tight, fighting back tears. This only seemed to bring them out, and so she bowed her head into her knees and cried as silently as she could through her moment of weakness.

She had never felt so far away.  

 

* * * * * *

 

 **Hermione willed herself to face the day after shedding a few tears.** The other girls started to wake as she pulled on her robes and tied back her curly hair. She avoided conversation all morning, even at breakfast in the Great Hall. The pit in her stomach held her appetite at bay. She was tracing the stitching on the Gryffindor tablecloth when Harry asked if she was feeling alright. She reassured him not to worry, that she was only preoccupied with schoolwork. 

The rest of the day crawled by as Hermione focused her attention on her academics. She managed to pull herself out of the dismal start she'd had that morning when she received top marks for her recent work in Arithmancy. As Friday came to a close, she concluded her studying and went to find her friends in Gryffindor tower.

All the Gryffindor quidditch players were having a pow-wow in the commonroom to boost morale for their play against Ravenclaw the next day. Over by the fireplace, Hermione found Harry, Ron, and Neville listening to the vivid and enthusiastic story-telling by Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas. Neville spotted her, smiled, and shifted aside to make space for her to sit. She quietly joined the circle as Neville handed her a cup of tea and returned his attention to the rambunctious actors. 

Hermione listened for a while before finishing her tea and calling it a night. She meandered 


End file.
